


Place to Run

by Empatheia



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Empatheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a volunteer punching bag can really make you feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Place to Run

Kagome had always seen and thought of dogs as a symbol of loyalty. Through wind and rain, storm and shine, come hell or high water, dogs were supposed to stick by their chosen companions like warm, slobbery superglue. They were always waiting for you when you came home, tongues hanging out, tails blurring in insane joy at your mere presence. And they _never, ever_ devoted themselves to more than one person.

Too bad it didn't work like that with dog youkai. All Inuyasha had inherited from his canine blood was a supersensitive nose, claws, and adorable fluffy ears. She loved those ears.

_Idiot._

He was gone again. Just one thin whiff of moldering clay mixed with something unnamable like a combination of rain and lilies, and off he went yet again, a vermilion blur on the horizon. Kikyou. Kagome tried, really tried, not to resent her, but first loves were like nothing else in the world and it so was impossible not to. Perhaps once, Kikyou had been bright, and kind, and shining. Like Kagome was. But now she was dead. _Dead_. Dead and unfairly conscious, unfairly mobile and definitely unfairly _present_. She was supposed to be gone. That was the way the story was supposed to go: Kikyou dies, and her reincarnation comes to patch up Inuyasha's heart and they live happily ever after with their memory of Kikyou merely another bond between them. Definitely not supposed to be a wall, an insurmountable spiky fence with 'Do Not Cross' scrawled in red spray-paint all over it.

She sat curled up, back to a tree, furious with him, and with herself for being furious in the first place. _He was hers first,_ she thought, in the interest of fairness. But she was fifteen, and emotion was still stronger than reason. He was hers, now... _mine!..._ and his absence was all wrong, a gaping hole in the rightness of things.

 _When he comes back, I'm going to sit him til his ears bleed,_ she vowed bitterly. _Til the rosary pulls him through the middle of the earth. After a quick pit stop in hell. Jerk! I hate him!_ Tears burned behind her eyes. It was so unfair.

"Kagome-sama?" A cool voice, suave and silky, but with an undertone of genuine warmth that kept it from being slimy. Miroku. Had he come to offer his own very distinctive, very unwelcome brand of comfort in her time of need? She stifled a snort of laughter. She would worry if he ever _didn't_ try to touch the women around him. That was just who he was, and it was all right. That didn't meant she wouldn't slap him, though.

"Go away," she ordered, not unkindly. "I'm having a magnificent sulk, so if you don't mind, I'm not in the mood for being impregnated. Buzz off." His brow crinkled at the unfamiliar terms, but her meaning was clear enough. A sigh sagged his lean shape underneath the baggy violet monk's attire.

"Sadly enough, I have not come to offer myself to you. If you want... I'm just here to listen to you."

Her head snapped up. "Isn't that Sango's job?" she blurted, then mortified, clapped a hand over her mouth. "Um."

He laughed, easy and unconcerned. "She was going to... but I had an intuition that this time she wasn't who you needed."

Her eyebrow quirked questioningly. "Why not?"

"You wouldn't hit your girl friend."

"Huh?" Mystified, she spread her hands on her knees. She honestly had no idea where he was going with this. He straightened his back and continued, determined to make her understand.

"You need to talk honestly, Kagome-sama. No holding back to spare anyone's feelings. You need to be able to take it out on someone without being afraid you're going to hurt them or push them away, or strike a nerve. You need to... what was that word from your time? Vent?" He nodded sagely. "I'm willing to let you 'vent' on me, if you want. I know you want to."

She stared at him, completely at a loss for words. "Uh..."

Then he ruined it completely by suddenly pouncing on her, dragging her to his chest with one hand while his cursed other hand roamed her posterior with practiced enjoyment. "I'm here for you, Kagome-sama," he practically simpered, oozing sleazy false compassion. Overwhelmed by everything, this suddenly became the last straw and she snapped. Throwing him off her with strength she didn't know she possessed, she rocketed to her feet and spread her feet in battle stance.

"Get the heck off me! What is it with men anyways? I am _not_ a plaything!" He stepped back, smiling, and suddenly she realized that he hadn't ruined it, not at all. It was all intentional, he had _known_ and _damn_ him anyways for understanding her so well. The dam was broken and she was crying, tears of fury and pain and betrayal dripping off her sodden, trembling chin. " _Why?"_ she shrieked, the question she hadn't had the guts to ask before. He met her eyes unshrinkingly, wordlessly giving her permission to say what she wanted to. So she did. "I can't stand being thrown back and forth like this, watching him vacillate between us. He acts like he's just trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast, not whose heart to break. And you know the really horrible thing?" Miroku shook his head, but she didn't see him anymore. "Hers wouldn't even break if he chose me! She's _dead_ and she _hates_ him and if he chose me she would probably try to kill him, then vanish forever when she failed! Oh, and the _other_ thing." She was beyond seeing the broad smile on Miroku's face. He crossed his arms and settled in to listen.

"I'm so sick of his constantly nagging me about going home for my tests. I have a whole other life! It's not a _hobby_! It's where I belong, and when this is over I'm going to have to make a life for myself in _that_ world and it'll be a lot harder to do without a high school diploma. He's such a hypocrite! I leave for a couple days, he gets all huffy and sulks. But he leaves to go after Kikyou and is gone for a week, but _that's_ fine because it's _him._ 'C'mon, Kagome, we gotta go after those shards,'" she mimicked angrily. "Always on my case when I need some time off. But _he_ needs some time off and nooobody says anything. We just sit and wait for his Highness to return and grace us with his presence again." She paused, breathing heavily. The anger faded for a moment and she visibly deflated.

"I guess... I'm just tired of drifting in limbo. I wish he would choose already, even if... even... if he chooses her." The last she said so softly he had to strain to hear her. "Then at least I'd know and could make my decisions based on that. What right does he have to jerk me around like this?" It was a rhetorical question, and Miroku was wise enough not to try and answer. "I just want to hit something! Or shoot something! Or break something! God, I'm so furious with him. What a _jerk_."

Wordlessly Miroku spread his arms. "Take your best shot."

She looked at him, and almost laughed, but the tears were in the way. "I appreciate the offer, I really do, but you're not a very satisfying target." She didn't just want to hit _something,_ she wanted to hit Inuyasha, and he wasn't Miroku and he wasn't _there_ and that's why she was angry in the first place.

"Oh, really?" He cocked an eyebrow, then suddenly he was infuriatingly _close_ and his hands were roaming, so self-assured, so smug and arrogant and... _Crack!_ The force of her blow made her hand sting smartly and sent him reeling backwards, his cheek blooming rosy with alarming speed.

He seemed unperturbed. "Good. Again." Helpless, sobbing with all the pent up hurt and not a little anger, she obeyed his clearly commanding tone and swung, wildly, connecting with what she thought was his shoulder. "Again." This time she missed, her vision obscured by pearlescent tears, and she stumbled. He caught her, and she gave in and collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

He carefully lowered them to the ground and settled his arms around Kagome, who was now crying in great, racking heaves, shuddering with every breath. Despite what might have been expected of him in such a situation, there was no hint of seduction in his eyes. The lecherous mask he presented to the world was convenient — it meant that no one really expected much of him. But of course, like all masks, it bore little relation to what was underneath except a vague similarity in shape. Miroku, the real Miroku, was the one sitting holding the distraught woman in his arms totally platonically, hands safely around her shaking shoulders.

She dissolved into his voluminous robes, lost in the comforting violet depths. Everything hurt so _much_ , but for some reason it was not unbearable anymore, not here. It was so nice not to be alone, and also to be with someone she knew what to expect from. "Miroku..." she started, almost unintelligible through the thickness of her throat, but he just hushed her and pulled her in a little tighter. The tears subsided over time, until she slept, as only those who have finally thrown off a huge burden can: face totally slack, snoring softly from the strange position of her head, muscles completely relaxed like a breathing, tearstained rag doll.

His legs were falling asleep when Sango walked up. Dusk was falling. She looked at the tableau before her, and miraculously her face did not tighten with suspicion and mistrust as he had feared it would. Instead, she smiled ruefully. "Is she all right?"

"No," he answered truthfully. "But I think she will be." And she slept on, safe and sound in the arms of someone who, in another life, may have been an older brother to her. In any case, when Inuyasha came back, the cycle would begin anew... but now she had somewhere to run, when she needed.

And run she would.

**X**

 


End file.
